


Leave the War With Me

by knightcommander



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst, F/F, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, Slow Burn, nothing overt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 05:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12183708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightcommander/pseuds/knightcommander
Summary: A loose and modern retelling of Dragon Age II. Hawke struggles to serve Kirkwall as an influential business woman with a legacy on the line. Anders struggles to champion mage rights. Nothing is simple, though at least they have each other.





	Leave the War With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends, please enjoy! I realized I had kind of forgotten how to write fiction so I'm easing myself back into it! This is not a strict retelling of DAII, heads up. However, major plot stuff will be followed. Thank for reading!

           Rain, soft and grey, pattered against the window, drops racing each other on the outside of the pane. Hawke traced one’s path with a delicate finger, her mind elsewhere.  Outside, Kirkwall was just beginning to awaken, the city beginning to fill with cars as the street lights turned off one by one. From her penthouse suite, she could see all of Kirkwall in the misty morning light. Even the slums.

           “Are you leaving soon?”

            Hawke turned back to Anders, bare shoulder blades pressed against the cool glass. “You know I wish I could stay.”

            Anders smiled faintly, his gaze soft and content. He lazed against the headboard of her bed, a silk sheet draped across his lap. For a moment, Hawke could barely see the wrinkles that had begun to deepen along his brow. “I miss you already.”

             Hawke sighed. “I’ll miss you too.”

            With a faint chuckle, Anders rose from the bed, brushing a few loose hairs from his eyes. He walked over to her, resting his hands on her hips as he pulled her closer.  “You work too hard,” he breathed, bringing his face close. 

             “I’ll work on that,” she replied, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. With that, Anders completed the distance, kissing her deeply. Hawke could feel his hands wander along her back, his fingers always so taut with unspoken need. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, enjoying the earthy sandalwood scent that always accompanied him.

           “Stay,” Anders said, untangling from her suddenly, eyes bright. “We could make a day of it.”

            Hawke only barely rolled her eyes. “I have a board meeting.”

            Anders raised an eyebrow. “And?”

            Hawke let her head rest back against the glass as she regarded him with amusement. “And someone needs to keep the lights on.”

            Their gaze locked for a long moment, both trapped in their mutual desire but inability to impose. Anders cupped her jaw, a wiry thumb brushing along her cheekbone. “I love you.”

            Hawke arched her back ever so slightly, embracing Anders with heavy arms. She buried her face in his neck, her body pressed against his. Suddenly she felt so tired, so exhausted by the infinity of her self-control, her sense of duty. How many more moments like this would she sacrifice for the pittance of a reward provided by her mother’s dying instruction? How much longer would she splinter herself for the benefits of the uncaring few? She sighed into his hair. Those questions were far too big for anyone. “I love you too,” she answered finally, a hard knot in her throat.  

 

* * *

 

 [3 months earlier]

 

            “Knight Commander Meredith. It’s always a pleasure.”

            Meredith bared a fanged smile, her blue eyes piercing as ever. She looked imposing, wearing  a tailored black suit, platinum hair slicked back, a loose tie around her neck.  At her hip hung a ceremonial dagger, the templar insignia engraved into the hilt with garnets. At her side, stood Knight Captain Cullen and… of course Carver. _She would,_ Hawke thought sourly. “Knight Captain. Carver. Nice to see you both as well.” Hawke reached to shake both their hands.

            “Yes, I do hope it’s alright I brought your brother.” Meredith smirked. “I thought it only appropriate.”

            “Of course,” Hawke answered blithely, “I’m just glad to see he’s well.”

            “You must be so proud,” Cullen chimed in. “He’s doing very well in the order. Fantastic shot out on the range.”

            Hawke met Carvers eyes for the briefest of moments, her lip curling almost imperceptibly. “I’m sure mother would be very proud.”

            “She would be,” Carver replied sharply, his eyes glittering darkly. The hilt of his handgun protruded tactlessly out from under his long overcoat. “I’ve even begun my lyrium treatments.”

            “Oh really?” Hawke raised a dispassionate eyebrow. _Asshole_. 

            “Naturally,” Meredith sighed, her tone suddenly bored. “Carver, show her the new patches.”

            Carver pulled up the sleeve of his overcoat, revealing a patch on the underside of his wrist. It glowed an ominous blue, the light pulsating and swirling hypnotically.

            “It’s new from Starkhaven Industries,” Carver explained. “Top of the line. Fast acting.”

            “Pity,” Hawke said, her eyes not straying from the patch, “I wish our scientists had patented that.”

            “Well,” Meredith replied, “Perhaps, you can make up lost ground today.”

            Hawke tore her eyes away from the patch, smiling obsequiously at Meredith. “On that note, why don’t I show you to our conference room.”

            “Please,” Meredith replied, the trio following Hawke down the office hallway. Hawke opened the door to a large conference room, sleekly designed with floor-to-ceiling windows, a Pollock painting hanging opposite. Meredith, Cullen, and Carver each took a seat, all three dwarfed by the massive, mahogany table.

            “I trust you have all met my CFO, Varric?” Hawke motioned to him, the dwarf seated with several manila folders in hand. He wore a velvet smoking jacket, his golden spectacles perched precariously at the end of his nose.

            “I believe we have,” Varric replied, tossing Hawke a wry glance. “Shall we get to business?” He slid a folder across the table to each of their guests before theatrically handing Hawke a clicker.

            Hawke smoothed her pencil skirt, rising with resurgent confidence. She poised herself at the end of the table, a black TV screen behind her. She took a calming breath before beginning her lecture. “As you know, Knight Commander, the Amell Corporation has always been dedicated to furthering our understanding of our world, and that includes our understanding magic. Precious little has been done in the last fifty years to expand our understanding of this relatively illicit field. Until now.” She clicked forward on her presentation, the screen behind her bringing up a photo of a large red stone, secured in a glass chamber. “This appears to be some variant form of lyrium, the likes of which we’ve never seen. Almost living, it appears to grow.”

            Meredith crossed her legs. “Is that…” She cleared her throat. “Red lyrium?

            “Interested?”

            Meredith leaned back in her seat, long fingernails tapping against the edge of the table. She bit her lip. “If I was, what is your price?”

            Hawke grinned, her smile almost as fanged and malevolent as Meredith's, victorious endorphins rushing through her veins. “Why don’t we begin negotiations then?”

 

* * *

 

GroupMe

Chat Members: Isabela, Marian, Varric, Aveline

 

11:05AM         Marian:     I need a drink.

11:06AM         Varric:      She does. I was there.

                       Varric:      For the record, I need a drink too

11:35AM         Aveline:    I’m in court.

11:36AM         Marian:     Aveline, I will give you 100 hundred dollars to leave trial and come drink with us.

11:43AM         Aveline:    no

11:52AM         Isabela:    why don’t you ever bribe me to drink with you?? :(

11:54AM         Varric:      because you’re always down

12:01PM          Isabela:    damn you got me there

12:25PM          Aveline:    Fine- 1pm Hanged Man

12:26PM          Isabela:    thank the maker

 

* * *

 

            The Hanged Man was as decrepit as ever, the wooden tables permanently stained and splintering. Even at one in the afternoon, the daylight that filtered into the bar was dingy and depressing. Hawke loved it though, terrible drinks and all. No one would recognize the majority shareholder of the Amell Corporation in this dump. Even if they did, most were too drunk to care.

            “What a hag,” Isabela laughed, “taking your shitty brother to a business meeting like that? What did she expect, a five percent discount?”

            “Probably,” Aveline replied dryly. “She just wanted to unnerve you, Hawke.”

            Hawke sighed, taking a massive sip of her beer. “Yeah I gathered that much.”

            Isabela propped her chin up in her hand. “So, how’s he doing? Still handsome with those big biceps?”

            “Still a prick,” Hawke replied, rolling her eyes. “They cut his hair short and he’s on lyrium already.”

            “Already?” Aveline frowned. “They’ve been fast-tracking these recruits lately. I don’t like it.”

            “Oh yeah?” Varric said, finally back from the bar, two drinks in hand.

            Aveline rubbed her temple. “Yeah my hearing today involved a templar recruit.”

            All three leaned forward, suddenly interested. “And?” Marian inquired.

            Aveline ran a coarse hand through her long red hair, flipping it over her shoulder matter-of-factly. “A templar recruit broke into the home of a suspected mage without a warrant. Did two thousand dollars’ worth of property damage. Almost killed the mage in question.” Her nose scrunched.  “Absolute _idiot_.”

            Varric whistled. “This city is insane these days.”

            “So,” Isabela asked, “was it actually a mage?”

            Aveline cocked her head thoughtfully. “Probably. Maybe. But as a commonwealth attorney, I don’t care. He trespassed without a warrant and assaulted a citizen.”

            “You’re doing amazing, Aveline,” Hawke smiled, finishing her beer. Varric handed her another on cue.

            “By the way,” Varric changed the subject, “good job today, Hawke.”

            Hawke shrugged. “Yeah? Just another day really.”

            “No,” the dwarf continued, “ _not_ just another day. It’s hard to square up to the Knight Commander, especially considering…” His voice trailed off.

            “Hey, let’s all have fun okay?” Isabela chided. “I don’t want to talk about anything too serious.”

            “Agreed,” Aveline said, “Besides, there are ears everywhere. _I would know_.”

            Suddenly, Isabela’s phone rang, the shrill beep interrupting their conversation. She looked down at the caller ID, immediately tense. “Hey, I need to take this call,” she said, standing. “Can you get me another drink?” Isabela walked away quickly, pressing the phone to her ear.

            “Sure,” Aveline replied to no one in particular, motioning to the bartender. All three were too busy watching Isabela in the corner as she spoke in hushed, if harried, whispers over the phone.

            “She seems stressed,” Varric observed, somewhat lazily. “Do you think she needs help?”

            “Isabela?” Hawke chuckled, “I can’t imagine.”

            With a final grumble, Isabela hung up the phone, striding back to the group’s table. “Hey, I gotta go. I’m having trouble with one of my contacts.”

            “Trouble?” Aveline’s eyes narrowed as she cracked her knuckles.

            “One of my people has been tagged. I think she’s being followed.”

            “That’s not good,” Hawke sighed. “Need a lift?”

            Isabela mulled the idea around for a moment, her hands on her hips, lips pursed. “Actually… yes.”

            “I’ll call the driver,” Varric said, standing. “Hawke, can you get the bill?”

            Hawke smiled dryly. “Don’t I always?”

 

* * *

           

            Hawke’s Escalade pulled up to the warehouse slowly, her chauffeur uncertain. “Is this the right address,” he asked nervously over the back of his seat.

            “Yes,” Isabela answered. She pulled out a glock from her purse, loading it.

            “Holy shit,” Varric exclaimed looked down at the silver handgun. “Anyone else seeing this?”

            Isabela grimaced. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.” She turned to Hawke. “Will you wait for me?”

            Hawke flexed her back, taking off her suit jacket. “I’m going with you.”

            “Absolutely not,” Aveline grabbed Hawke’s wrist sternly, her eyes flashing. “You are the CEO of Amell-.”

            Hawke rolled her eyes. “And?” She wrested her arm away and opened the car door defiantly, jumping out. Isabela followed, the two of them standing before an abandoned warehouse. Most of its windows had been shattered or otherwise boarded up, broken bottles littering the ground. Down the road Hawke could see the faint neon lights of a gas station- the only sign of neighboring life. Aveline and Varric tumbled out of the car after them.

            “Damn it, Hawke,” Aveline sighed. “Aren’t we near the alienage?”

            Isabela pointed, “It’s a few blocks that way.”

            “Great,” Varric mused, “this is a great place to get shot.”

            “Or worse,” Isabela chuckled. “Come on.”

            They walked towards the warehouse slowly, Isabela taking the lead. She held her handgun low, but ready. When they reached the front door, she eased it open quietly.

            The warehouse was seemingly empty, but well-lit. Much of the roof had caved in and plants had begun to reclaim the cracks in the pavement. Large crates were stacked in the corners and scattered throughout, though they looked old and disused. “Hello?” Isabela called out, raising her gun.

            “I’m over here,” came a light, almost musical, voice. Stepping out from behind one of the boxes was an elf, diminutive in size. She had cropped black hair and wore a simple lab coat. She looked terrified, her large green eyes wide, hands shaking. “Thank you for coming but you-you shouldn’t have.”

            “Merrill,” Isabela began striding toward her, “are you alright?”

            “I’m-“

            A massive bang filled the warehouse, a smoke canister rolling to Hawke’s feet. She kicked it away furiously. “Get back!” She screamed, darting forward to grab Isabela. She found purchase on the scruff of her blouse, yanking her back behind a crate.

            Isabela grimaced, swatting Hawke away. “Merrill, we are over here! Follow my voice!” By now smoke had filled most of the warehouse, obscuring vision. Merrill skidded back behind the crate, crashing into Aveline’s arms.

            “Who is this?!” Aveline yelled, her eyes wide as she attempted to adjust to the miasma.

            “My contact,” Isabela growled, peering over the crate. “Merrill, what are we up against?”

            “Qunari, I think?” She flinched, a bullet flying overhead.

            “Shit,” Varric began. “We need to get out of here.”

            Isabela fired a few shots over her crate, the smog beginning to burn everyone’s throats. “No, we can handle this. How many?”

            Varric closed his eyes, concentrating. “It’s too loud. Maybe three distinct footsteps?”

            Hawke smiled impishly, despite their circumstances. “Three? That’s it?”

            Isabela smiled back, “Merrill, can you clear this smoke?”

            Merrill’s brow furrowed. “I can try.” Closing her eyes and swallowing hard, a green light snapped through the air, a deep hum emanating from her clenched hands. Winds began to pick up in the warehouse, slowly at first, then deafeningly. The crates around them shook, a whirlwind of debris ascending from the floor and escaping out the ruined ceiling. In a matter of seconds, the smoke had been siphoned away, the howling winds dying. Hawke could begin to hear gruff shouting from the other end of the room, but rapidly approaching. It was a language with which she was unfamiliar, but could still identify. _Definitely qunari._ Aveline glanced around their cover. “There’s definitely three. Assault rifles.”

            Hawke cracked her knuckles, “Cover me.”

            With a flourish, Hawke stood, her palm raised and ready. She closed her eyes, just long enough to focus, to center her magic, to feel the surge of mana as rippled under her skin.  _It’s been so long_ , she realized, her eyes snapping open. _So long since I’ve gotten be… myself._ With that, a cone of continuous ice erupted from her hand, the blizzard contained before her in a large swath. She strode forward towards the first qunari as he blindly fumbled with his gun, ice and snow filling his eyes. Frost was already forming on his skin, turning his greyish skin a preternatural blue. With her other palm, she ripped the weapon from his hand and tossed it aside, the frozen rifle clattering against the icy floor. He scrambled backwards but Hawke stepped on his ankle- hard. He yelled out, clutching his certainly broken leg. _One down_.

            “I’m behind you,” Isabela yelled, running to Hawke’s back. She held her glock high, watching the edges of Hawke’s blizzard. “Right!” She yelled, the second qunari attempting to flank the area spell. Hawke turned her palm to him, freezing the man before he could get his first shot off. While he was stunned, Isabela fired her gun, hitting him in the lower abdomen. He stumbled backwards. _That’s two._

            A bullet whizzed overhead, barely missing Hawke’s ear. “Shit,” she breathed, suddenly feeling the strain on her mana pool. Before she had felt electrified with magical potential and pent-up frustration from her earlier meeting with the Knight Commander. Now, however, her limbs felt like lead. “I can’t keep this up for much longer,” Hawke yelled, her voice barely audible over the din of snow.

            “I know,” Isabela yelled back. “Tell me where he is and I’ll shoot him.”

            Hawke nodded, striding forward more cautiously now. She closed her eyes, feeling the earth under her feet. Behind her, she could feel Merrill, Aveline, and Varric’s footsteps against the concrete floor, the three of them still huddled behind their crate. Ahead of her, it was harder to tell. It seemed he was… he made a heavy step and Hawke focused in on him. She turned her palm towards him, ten degrees to the left. “Where I’m pointing,” she yelled out.

            “Got it,” Isabela replied, her pistol aimed. “Goodbye, _asshole_.” A loud gunshot followed by a pained grunt. _And we’re done_.

            Hawke dropped her hands to her knees, exhausted and panting heavily. The blizzard dissipated instantly, leaving only a frosty residue along the floor and a lingering chill. “You alright?” Isabela clapped Hawke on the back. 

            “I’m… alright. I’m-“

            Pain, red and terrible, shot through Hawke’s stomach, her ears not even registering the gunfire. She clutched her stomach, falling forward onto the cold pavement. Cheek pressed against the ground, she could see her assailant, the first qunari she had picked off. Piecing it together, she berated herself, despite the pain. _Should have realized he could have crawled back to his gun…_ Her vision was going dark fast, and her hands were already covered in blood. The last thing she saw was Isabela, trembling, shooting the last qunari.

            “Hawke, focus on me. Focus.” She could feel Varric’s hand on her shoulders, roughly pulling her up. “Can you apply pressure?”

            Aveline’s hands pressed against the wound and Hawke yelped. “Stay with us, Hawke,” she soothed. “Stay with us.”

            Hawke’s head rolled back. _Great_ , she thought faintly, sarcastically, _Leandra is going to kill me when she sees me._ She could hear everyone arguing, but it all seemed so distant, so incredibly trivial…

“Merrill, you’re a mage! Do something!”

            “I-I can’t heal! I’m sorry!”

            “You have got to be kidding me.”

            “She doesn’t have time to get to a hospital.”

            “I know someone who can help. A healer lives nearby. Relatively nearby. I think.”

            “How close?”

            “Does it really matter at this point?”

            Hawke felt herself hoisted into Aveline’s capable arms, her hand falling away from her blood-covered stomach. With a final sigh, Hawke fell into a deep unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

            _Sandalwood, antiseptic, the faint smell of lavender._

            Hawke opened her eyes slowly, breathing in deeply. She heard footsteps nearby, though they were light steps, as though someone was trying their best to stay quiet. She began to turn her head towards the sound, but suddenly felt sick with the motion. She cleared her throat and closed her eyes. “Hello?”

            A pause in the footsteps. “You’re awake.”

            The voice was gentle, male- one she didn’t recognize. She felt the bed sink as he sat on its edge. Hawke opened her eyes a second time. “Hello.”

            The man above her chuckled. “Hello. How are you feeling?”

            “Absolutely fantastic,” Hawke replied dryly. She inspected his face for a moment and he did the same in turn, their gaze meeting for a long time. He wasn’t altogether hideous, she mused, his sandy blonde hair framing his face. The roman nose did make him seem sort of bookish, which Hawke liked. Overall, she thought he looked kind, if weathered.

            “If that’s true, I really should start charging double.”  

            Hawke cracked a smile as he pressed a cold cloth to her forehead. “You’re a mage.”

            He smiled back, “And so are you.”

            “Thank you,” she sighed, her strength waning, “for saving my life.”

            “It was nothing,” he replied, his gaze dropping humbly.

            Hawke reached for his arm. “What’s your name?”

            “Anders.”

            She raised an eyebrow, her hand resting on his arm. “Just Anders?”

            He shrugged. “Just Anders.”

            “I’m Marian Hawke.” She said, unprompted. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought to stay awake.

            “I know.” He laughed. “Go to sleep, Marian.”  

            With that, her arm dropped and she fell into another deep and dreamless sleep.  

 

           

           

           

           

           

 


End file.
